


Trust

by actingwithportals



Series: Thirty-One Day Writing Challenge [6]
Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Canon Era, Gen, day six of my thirty-one day writing challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 12:30:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13294914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actingwithportals/pseuds/actingwithportals
Summary: Jack makes a new friend, forming a bond of trust that would last a lifetime





	Trust

He was running again. It felt as if he were always running. Whether it was the bulls, Snyder, the Delancey’s, someone was always chasing him. It felt as if he never had time to catch his breath, and this time his breath was running out. He needed to find an escape, and fast, before things took a turn for the worst.

Jack skidded to a stop, coming across an alleyway. He ducked inside, quickly making do with hiding behind several large trash bins, huddling down low in hopes of not being seen. He heard footsteps running past, not even pausing at the alleyway entrance for a moment. Jack sighed a breath of relief; he was going to be alright. They weren’t going to find him this time.

Jack leaned back against the brick wall, taking in his surroundings for the first time. The trash bins towered above him, and garbage littered the ground around him. It stunk, too. Holding his nose, he turned his head to look to his left, only just now noticing the small figure hunched against one of the bins, a pair of bright green eyes staring at him in a mixture of shock and horror.

Jack nearly jumped out of his skin. Where had this person come from? Had they been there the whole time, just staring at him? When he jumped the other person jumped as well, startled by the sudden movement. It appeared to be a boy, presumably a few years younger than himself. He had his arms wrapped tightly around himself, and his legs pulled up to his chest. His eyes bore into Jack, unblinking.

“Who the . . . who the hell are you?” Jack questioned, trying to catch his breath.

The boy didn’t answer; he just continued to stare, as if petrified.

“Hey, I’se asking you a question,” Jack snapped. “What’re you doing hunched up back here? You’se running from something too?”

The boy gave a small nod, still not breaking eye contact with Jack.

“Whatcha running from?” Jack asked, curious now. “If it’s Snyder, he just went that way; he’s too stupid to catch a good hider, and this is a prime hiding spot.”

At the mention of that name, the boy started to tremble, pulling his arms more tightly around himself.

“Hey, it’s okay, he ain’t here,” Jack said, trying to be reassuring. He reached out a hand to pat the boy’s head, but as soon as he got close the boy slapped his hand away, glaring at him

“Whoa, geez, no need to get testy,” Jack said, backing up a little. “I’se sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you or nothing.”

The boy didn’t say anything, instead just continued to glare at him.

“You gotta name, kid?” Jack asked, eyeing him curiously. He hadn’t seen the kid around before, and suspected he wasn’t a newsie, but it was possible he was from another territory and had wandered far from his area while running away from Snyder. Either way, he looked far too young to be off on his own, and was certain to get caught sooner or later if someone didn’t get him back to his home.

The boy didn’t answer, settling for continuing to glare at Jack.

“Well, I’se Jack,” Jack introduced. “Jack Kelly. I’se twelve; how old is you?”

No answer, just continued staring.

“Let me guess, you must be eight, right? Or around there?” Jack asked, taking a gander.

“Ten,” the boy corrected, his voice barely above a mumble.

“He speaks!” Jack praised. “You sure don’t look ten. You positive you ain’t eight?”

The boy nodded. “I’se ten,” he repeated.

“And does you have a name?” Jack asked again, ready to not take no for an answer.

The boy shook his head, as if that were a perfectly acceptable answer. Jack frowned, clearly disappointed. “Alright, guess I’se gonna have to call you shortcake or something,” Jack joked.

The boy frowned. “You ain’t that much taller than me,” he complained, speaking up for once.

“Oh really?” Jack asked. “Stand up and prove it then.”

The boy made a face, looking down at his legs. Jack looked down too and noticed for the first time, his right leg looked twisted, his foot bent at an odd angle.

“Whoa, what happened to you?” Jack asked, reaching out his hand. The boy slapped his hand away again, glaring pointedly at him. “Sorry,” Jack apologized. “It’s just that it looks painful. You needs to see a doctor or something.”

The boy turned out his pockets, showing that they were empty. Jack immediately understood.

“Ain’t you got folks?” he asked, already figuring the answer.

The boy shook his head, and Jack felt a pang of sympathy for him.

“Neither do I,” Jack admitted. “Ain’t that a coincidence, huh?”

The boy nodded.

“So, uh, where is you headed?” Jack asked, trying to make conversation. He really wanted to ask how the boy ended up on the streets like this, but figured that might be too invasive.

The boy didn’t meet Jack’s eyes, looking back down at his feet. He didn’t give Jack an answer, and from that Jack guessed it was because he didn’t have one.

“Well,” Jack started. “I’se got to head back home before it gets too late. Sun’s going down, and this ain’t no place to be at night. You should come with me, there’s plenty of beds, and food to eat too. What do you say?”

The boy looked up at Jack, his face twisted with surprise.

“I live at the newsboy Lodging House, just down the street,” Jack explained. “We’se got water, and food, and blankets and all that. If you wanted to stay the night while you get your situation sorted I’se sure no one would mind too much. Hell, I’ll even cover your rent for the night if you like.”

The boy stared at Jack with confusion. “Why?” he asked simply.

Jack shrugged. “Don’t seem right to leave some kid on the street without at least offering some help,” Jack explained. “Especially with Snyder out and roaming about.”

The boy frowned, fidgeting with the hem of his pant leg.

Jack stood up, sighing. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I promise you, it’s better than staying out here after dark.” He extended a hand, offering it for the boy to take. “What do you say? Do you trust me, shortcake?”

The boy stared at his hand for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to take it.

“Going once, going twice,” Jack said, still holding out his hand. “And-”

Before he got the chance to finish, the boy took his hand, grasping onto it quickly.

Jack smiled. “Good choice,” he said.

Jack helped the boy to his feet, allowing him to put an arm around his shoulders to help support the boy’s weight. He wasn’t much shorter than Jack, after all. All the other boys did always say Jack was pretty short. He supposed this just proved it.

They made their way to the Lodging House, Jack looking every which way to make sure no one unsavory showed up on their way back. The boy limped beside him, putting most of his weight on Jack’s shoulders. Jack didn’t mind; he had decided to help this kid, and he was going to stick by that.

He had no idea just how much that decision would change his life.


End file.
